


We're all animals

by Kinkri



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mad Max Setting (Original Timeline), Fly-Fishing, Gen, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:22:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinkri/pseuds/Kinkri
Summary: Two friends try to stay sane as Australia falls into disarray.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Roadhog is a flyfisherman, because the hook throw reminds me of a fishing cast and I thought'd be fun. I know a little about flyfishing, but not much about Australia, so sorry if I get anything wrong. Junkrat and Roadie are gonna be pretty OOC until the wasteland breaks em down, so bear with me.

Mako threw the bright green line over the slow moving river in which he stood. It had been a slow day for fishing, but most fishing days were slow, that's why he liked it. Actually catching fish wasn't always the point, sometimes it was just the simple enjoyment of the river, the water, and the landscape. Nobody bothered him when he was out here, or when he was in any of his other spots. Just him, and some fish, if he was lucky. He pulled the line back through his fingers for one last cast before he figured he had to get to work. 

He and his friend Jamison Fawkes ran a junkyard/garage just outside Melbourne, to the northeast. Well, they didn't really run it from the business perspective. It was owned by some businessman they hardly ever saw who thought it was a good investment. It had always gotten enough business from the people who broke down on the way into Melbourne, and from the scattered car mod enthusiasts who needed parts, but recently less people had been coming in. The roads weren't as safe, nobody drove out far enough to break down anymore. When Mako arrived, he saw Jamie entertaining himself with an engine lifted out of a car adding various fluids to catalyze the combustion, something he did fairly often. Jamison was a skinny man, and despite being quite tall, gave the impression of being a fair bit shorter from his poor posture. He and Mako were quite good friends, despite Jamison always irritating Mako to the end of his wits. Mako always said he put up with him only because he could tie the flies Mako couldn't (As Mako's hands were quite big, he usually enlisted Jamison to tie flies, an activity Jamison quite enjoyed, being as he could usually make them quite loud and garish, which were good things for a fly to be.), but Mako did enjoy his company, deep down. As he got closer, Jamie looked up and grinned, shutting off the engine and bouncing over.

"How was the fishing, mate?" Jamison asked.

"Not great." Mako replied, setting his stuff down in the shed they used for an "office" next to the gate of the yard.

"Ah, that sucks." Said Jamie, flopping down onto one of the two old swivel chairs in the room. Mako shrugged and sat down in the other, flipping a sign in the window around to 'open'. He sat back and started tinkering with a fishing reel. Jamison tossed something onto his desk.

"Made a new fly." It was yellow and red, with whatever string Jamie had used sticking out all over.

"Yellow humpy. Thanks." said Mako, picking it up delicately.

Jamie shrugged. "I just liked the colors." He stood and went back into the yard to torment more unlucky cars.

The day was pretty slow. A couple came in for a tire change, and another for an oil change. By lunchtime, the heat was getting to Mako, and he wished he had never left the river that morning. He and Jamison ate in the office, with a loud fan trying in vain to cool them both down. As they finished, Jamie noticed an envelope on his desk neither of them had noticed that morning. He tore it open, and after looking at it for a second, looked to Mako and raised his eyebrows.

"It's from the boss." He scanned the letter quickly, and dropped it back onto the desk.

"What'd it say?" Mako asked a visibly annoyed Jamie.

"He's shutting this place down." he sat back with his arms crossed. Mako sighed. He wasn't surprised. He'd been expecting this for a while, just wished their boss had waited a little longer.

"When?"

"Next Wednesday. Told us to take anything left we wanted to keep and be out by then." Jamison was obviously upset. Mako knew he loved working here, loved working with his hands and the engines. Mako was just upset about losing a job. It was going to be hell to get a new one, if he even could. It was Friday today, gave them five days to clear out, about four days more than they needed. Mako decided to make use of the extra time he had. He turned to Jamie.

"Hey." Jamie looked up. "You wanna go up to Lake Eildon for a couple days?" Jamie looked confused. "You know, fishing trip. Get away."

"I don't know how to fish."

"I'll teach you."

Jamie relaxed a little. He stayed quiet for a moment, and said: "Roads ain't safe. I don't wanna take my car. Get stolen or sumthin'."

Mako shrugged. "We're both strong. Nobody'll fuck with us. And we can take one of those cars." He gestured outside to the jalopies outside.

Jamie looked at him. "You kidding? Those won't make it ten miles."

"We're good. We can keep 'em going."

"Where'll we sleep?"

"In the car. Not so bad."

Jamison looked outside. "Sure." He stood up and walked out. He started tearing parts out of random cars and holding them in his arms. Mako turned and starting packing the things from his desk away. "Guess we'll figure it out tomorrow," he muttered under his breath  
He didn't have to wait quite that long. As he walked out of the gate to go home, Jamie tapped on his foot, from under a derelict sports car. He pointed to a pale blue Toyota pickup across the yard. It had a bent back bumper, and scratches all over, but otherwise, looked fairly presentable.

"We'll take that one. It's in the best shape." He promptly went back to whatever he was doing under the car. Mako grunted and walked out the gate

"Lock up when you leave." He said before walking down the road.

Ironically, Mako didn't have a car. He could drive fine, pretty well if he could get on a bike, as he used to be a member of a bikie gang when he was younger. Still had the massive tattoo on his belly, from that. He quit a while ago, but tattoos take a while to fade. The gang had all in all been too much for him, so he stuck to his fly fishing these days. He still remembered a couple things from back then, though. Like how to ride a motorbike, and how to hit somebody so hard they forgot their own name. Hadn't done much of either for a while.

Luckily, he didn't have to walk too far, by his standards. Just over an hour. He enjoyed the walk, and the exercise was good for him. He kept all his fishing gear in a two gallon bucket, with his pole sticking out, and the bucket would knock against his ankles, being a mild annoyance. Otherwise, the walk was quite pleasant, Victoria tended to be. He lived on the edge of a farm, the farmer rented out a shack near the pigsty, which was a lot more pleasant than it sounded. It wasn't huge, but big enough, three small rooms, an entry/sitting room, a small kitchen, and a small bedroom, plus an outhouse and a storage closet around back. All well maintained, and ventilated well. Plus, Mako was quite fond of the pigs. He set his stuff down in his bedroom, and crossed the sitting room to get to the kitchen and get dinner ready. Slapped a pork chop into a pan (sorry pigs) and as it was sizzling, went around back to the storage to grab a spare pole for Jamie, plus some extra tackle. He got back to the chop before it burned, ate briefly, and brushed his teeth in the kitchen sink. He took apart his rod to air dry, and went to bed.  
The next morning, he met Jamison standing outside the junkyard with the pickup already loaded up with various maintenance equipment they would need for basic fixes. The truck was a couple decades old, but it was a Toyota, so they would probably be okay. He stuck the fishing bucket in the back, as well as his bag of miscellaneous other supplies, like spare line and changes of clothes. He noticed Jamie hadn't seemed to pack anything.

"Don't you want spare clothes?"

He shrugged. "Don't need 'em. You ready to go?"

"Yup," said Mako, opening the driver's side door. "I'll drive." Jamie hopped in, and they pulled out of the yard.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild violence in this chapter, just a couple broken bones, lost teeth, and a gun.

The pickup rumbled down the road, windows open, clanging and banging every time it rolled over an imperfection in the road, the fishing and mechanical equipment in the back rolling and sliding around. Mako watched the mile markers crawl past Jamison's window, too unfocused to really pay attention to the road. He knew it was dangerous, but it seemed most everything was, these days. He wouldn't have noticed the men clustered around the upcoming mile marker if Jamie hadn't whacked him in the shoulder and pointed them out. 

They were all loosely clustered around several cars and a large chopper motorcycle, parked horizontally across the road. They were all clad in biking leathers, despite only one bike being present, numbering slightly less than a dozen in all. Mako depressed the brake pedal and slipped his hand under his seat, where he kept the tow rope with a heavy hook on the end, that had been left in the truck. He hoped it wouldn't come down to fighting, but if it did, it would be helpful to have something hefty. Plus, maybe they just needed a tow. You never know. He decided to roll up to the chopper, and hoped these men were just rowdy, inconsiderate assholes, rather than one of the new gangs that had been popping up all over the coast. They were all talking and laughing, but as the car stopped, the man lounging on the chopper leaned onto his feet and sauntered over. He had uneven hair that stuck up in all directions, making his head look slightly too big for his body. The leathers he wore resembled the style of the rest of the men, but with large pouches and pockets all over. Mako didn't like the look of him, and he could tell Jamison didn't either. The man waltzed over to the driver's side door, stopped about two metres away, and motioned for Mako to step out. Mako opened the door, and stepped out of the car, but not from behind the door, keeping one hand clutched around the hook hidden behind it. Jamison stepped out too, and stared down the rest of the men clustered around the further cars. Mako was tall enough to stare at the man over the top of the window, while the man himself was a good two feet shorter, a fact that didn't seem to bother him much. The larger wondered if he was drunk, given his gait and confidence, but when he spoke, he seemed articulate enough.

"Morning gents!" Mako grunted in acknowledgement.

"Dangerous times out here! Never know who exactly is going to roll down the road next. I trust you two aren't planning any trouble?" said the man pleasantly, leaning forward during the latter sentence, looking up at Mako as if they were sharing a secret.

"Not as long as you aren't," replied Mako.

"None at all. See, me and my compatriots are doing our part to keep the streets safe. Unfortunately, such work doesn't come for free." He smiled. "And one can't rely on the government in times like these."  
His hand moved towards a pouch Mako hadn't noticed before. His hand slipped inside and grasped something. "So we humbly suggest you redirect your taxes to men who you can rely on, such as," He swept his arm towards his companions, “Us.”

Mako stood silently for a moment, as the nature of the situation dawned on him. "You robbing us?"

"Perish the thought! No, not any more than the men sitting in the lodge are."

"You're robbing us." It wasn't a question this time.

"That's not a very optimistic outlook, mate." The man sighed, as if what came next pained him. He lifted the object he was grasping out of his pouch, a mid-sized shotgun, sawn off a few inches after the end break action. The man had poor trigger discipline, something that worried Mako. He decided to try and leave this man, and this situation, where it was, and move on. He sat back down and moved to close the door.

"Let's not, mate," he said to the brazen man with the buckshot.

"Hey, you fat fuck, this ain't a choice," he said, abandoning all pretense.

That got Jamison's attention. He was more sensitive about Mako's weight than Mako was.  
"Alright, you fuckin' cunt, why don't you back off before things get uglier than your fucking hair?"

It was a weak insult, but the man scowled and flicked the safety off of his firearm. Everything else happened pretty fast. Mako decided the situation had boiled over, and resolved that he might as well do something about it. He threw the hook through the window, and managed to slam it right into the hand holding the gun, causing the man to yell, and his fingers to contract and send two twelve-gauge slugs right into the hood of the parked truck. The rest of the thugs sprung up from their various perches, and Jamison decided to hop into the back of the truck and throw a tackle box at the nearest one. Mako pulled the hook back into his hand as he advanced towards the hastily trying to reload his firearm. However, Mako Lutredge moving towards you with no friendly intentions can be fairly intimidating, and the man dropped the first two shells between his boots–as well as a couple of his teeth as his face was introduced to the blunt metal hook. The previously overconfident leather-clad leader decided to cut his losses and bolt towards the trees. Mako turned to face the rest.

They all looked disconcerted as their leader, and, from the looks of it, the only one wielding anything more than a tire iron, had dropped from the scene, but none of them backed down. At least, not until Jamison hopped out of the bed of the truck with a wrench and roadhog started to walk towards them, at which point two of them looked at each other and hopped back into the muscle car farthest from the chopper, and blasted off down the highway. The remaining men rushed towards Mako and Jamison. The first one to reach Mako was grabbed under the armpits and thrown into the bonnet of the blasted pickup before he could react, and the second was tripped up by a well-placed kick, tumbling face first into the open door. Mako slammed the door, causing the leathered asshole to hit his head again on the pavement, and kicked by the massive man standing over him. Even though he kept ahold of his consciousness, he decided it was in his best interest not to get up.

Meanwhile, Jamison dealt with another thug by deflecting an attack off the wrench, the impact causing his opponent to drop the weapon, which Jamison followed up to with a swing into the knee, a strike from which the leather did little to protect. The man fell down onto the wounded knee, and from there his head was in the perfect bashing height for the wrench, something Jamison took full advantage of. He went down –– probably to stay. The next thug got a good hit on Jamison, smashing his cheek with an iron. Jamison stumbled, but his attacker started having other concerns when Mako stepped behind him and wrapped the rope from the hook around his neck. He attempted to escape, kicking backwards, but the scrawny, wannabe biker couldn't do much against a quarter ton of angry Lutredge. He went down with a smash up the jaw and slap that sent him several metres away. With half their gang slapped like flies, the remaining members stopped in their tracks and tried to abruptly reverse course towards their cars. In their hurry one tripped, and spilled into the pavement, and Mako stepped on his back.

Mako nearly put all his weight on that foot, but it struck him that such an action would probably kill the man. He'd hurt quite a few just now, he didn't think he'd killed any, but they hadn't gotten up yet, and the blood hadn't stopped. The thought blindsided him, and in his hesitation, the scared leathered thug under his foot thrashed and rolled out, nearly toppling Mako. He'd barely thrown himself into one of the car that the others had started, before it screamed down the highway, the same direction as the others. Mako watched them go, before remembering his friend had taken one hell of a hit to the face. He turned and saw him breathing hard, with blood smattered on his face and his cheek already swelling to hell. Despite that, he looked at Mako and grinned.

"Really showed 'em what for, eh mate?" Mako shook his head and strode to the pickup, which still had a sizeable dent in the front, from the person thrown into it, as well as a couple ragged pinholes from the shot. The dent was uninhabited, as was the pavement beside the car. Mako was worried, didn't want those thugs to sneak up on them later, but he was relieved he didn't hadn't hurt them too badly.

He then returned to the front of the car, where he pried off the hood to asses the damage. The shot had definitely hit something, as the engine block was smattered with dark fluid. It looked bad.

"Jamie, c'mere."

Jamison walked over with one hand on his swollen cheek.

"Take a look." Mako glanced at his eye, which had swollen shut. "If you can." Jamie stuck his tongue out at Mako and looked over at the engine while Mako moved to investigate the man Jamie had taken down. He knelt down and the guy flinched and covered his face with his arms, and made a sound as his leg moved. Mako was no doctor, but he was pretty sure legs weren't supposed to look like that. He sat there for another moment, before muttering under his breath.

"Sorry mate."

The man on the ground lowered his arms with a strange expression (probably pain) before Mako stood back up and turned back around to face Jamie.

"How's it look?" Jamie grimaced, though from pain or from the sight of the engine, Mako couldn't tell.

"Not good. Some belt snapped, totally wrecked the engine block."

"Can you fix it?"

Jamie turned to Mako and leant on the edge of the car. "Probably not," he said, and shrugged.

Mako sighed. "The fuck are we gonna do?"

Jamie's eyes wandered (or the one good one, anyway), and came to rest on the chopper in the middle of the road. "You know how to drive a bike, right?"

Mako looked over. He wasn't enthusiastic about the bike at the moment, all the fighting was already reminding him of his time in the bikie gang, and stealing a bike to escape the scene seemed a bit too on the nose. There was still a car left, a flashy bright red one. The flame decals down the side completed the obnoxious look. 

“Can’t we take that?” Mako said, nodding at the car.

“They stopped for a reason,” said Jamison, waving his hand at the wheels. One of the tires was in bad shape, looked like something had taken a bite out of it, a sizeable chunk of rubber missing. Mako was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. He shrugged.

“Explains all the tire irons,” said Mako. He moved toward the bike to take a closer look. It was dark grey, and had a squat oblong sidecar the same color. Two plastic panniers attached to the back wheel looked as if they would accommodate all their things quite easily, though the fishing rods themselves would probably have to go in the sidecar. Mako shrugged and turned back to Jamie.

“I’ll load up. You get it going.” Jamie hopped into the back and grabbed a short length of wire and got to work, while Mako retrieved the tackle box from where it lay on the asphalt. It took less than a minute to load everything into the bike and get it going, and not soon after they rolled out down the highway.


End file.
